Yeah, well. Interesting is one word. I really wanted to like this book. I mean, secret societies, alternate universes, and mysterious pasts? I'd like to read about that! Except it utterly flops when the person doing the writing does it badly. I read it quickly to get it over with, I think.
In 1890, Captain John Hardwick is finally released after years of captivity and interrogation in Burma. He returns home to London (in a rather John-Watson style, I noticed), confused and addicted to the opium that his torturers used on him as part of their evil acts. But the hope for a quiet civilian life, possibly as the writer he never was able to become before, is squashed when John receives summons to the Apollonian, a gentleman's club. There, John is informed that the anarchist bombings that have been happening all around London for the past several months are something much more sinister--and John, with his exceptional military skills and the endurance demonstrated during his captivity, must find out the truth and stop the explosions.
The Artist. Can we talk about the Artist for a moment here? He was an absolutely amazing villain! Okay, so maybe he monologued a bit much at times (you know, the now-that-I'm-going-to-kill-you-I-can-tell-you-everything-and-make-my-ego-happy-but-of-course-you-my-victim-are-actually-going-to-escape-and-tell-the-good-guys-and-it's-not-going-to-go-well-for-future-me monologue). But other that that, he was brilliant. He was terrifying and captivating and complicated. Probably the most complex character in the book, in fact. His appearance in the prologue was why I kept going once I was a few chapters in and a bit disenchanted. I wanted to read about the Artist again, this mysterious blind painter with "pets" that everyone is terrified of. And the part of the book that he is in the most of is definitely the most interesting and best-written. He also made a great symbol for the horrors that the Othersiders (the attackers from the parallel universe) faced.
I also liked the development of James Denny in certain places (because some of his development was a bit dreadful and not actually development at all; the inclusion of his character also made no sense until about two-thirds of the way into the book). Latham did a nice job of juxtaposing John's initial impression of Jim's version of being an army man with Jim's part in the climax of the book.
And now for my mixed feelings.
Okay, so the writing was not very good. I liked the story and I wanted to read about the Artist, so I kept going, but honestly. It was so badly written. First off, I have some news for anyone hoping to write a Victorian novel: Victorian gentlemen--especially those who have just met--do not call each other by their first names. And yet we've got "John this," "Jim that," "Ambrose here and there," and I am utterly confused. Like, why? Why is it so hard to use last names, Latham? Also, there was a great deal of anachronistic phrases, such as "logistical nightmare" and probably also the idea that when a person can't sleep, their mind won't "switch off." Those mostly occurred near the beginning of the book, but were really distracting. I also don't believe that Latham knows how to write a Victorian newspaper article. Other elements of bad writing wormed their way into other aspects, such as characters and plot, and so I shall smash things together when necessary. The anachronisms were pretty much the only part of the writing that wasn't also part of something else.
So, the characters. *Drops head in hands and shakes it hopelessly*. Initially, I thought that John was a pretty good character. Well, nope. As the book progressed, I felt that something important was missing from him, and I only figured out what that was near the end of the book. John's the narrator, but we never get any of his feelings. We get his thoughts and his perspective on events, but he doesn't ever really mention how he feels, and so he just becomes this awkward plot device. Hey, Latham: YOUR MAIN CHARACTER SHOULD NOT BE JUST A PLOT DEVICE. Honestly. Without John's feelings, he's not really a character at all, and he certainly makes a poor narrator. Most of the other characters are also a bit confusing and/or pointless for the majority of the story. Latham tried to create suspense by having John wonder who was a traitor and who was an agent from the other side and who he could trust, but it just made some of the characters really confusing.
Rather related to John and other characters is the matter of characters' perceptions of what constitutes secrecy. Okay, so you've been recruited by a secret society within an elite club to combat supernatural forces that are trying to invade your world. What do you do? You go around telling a guy you've just met about all of your discoveries, appending "I don't know if I should be telling you this" onto everything you tell him. (OH DEARIE ME. That's not a good sign.) And then you keep almost dying. Hm. Maybe you should shut up, use your common sense, and be a good little spy, eh? (Part of this is related to the problem of Jim Denny not making any sense as a character until, like, the end of the book. And John spilling everything to him is basically just a way to force Jim into Apollo Lycea. Like what?) And then John proceeded to not learn from his experiences--although we were clearly meant to believe that he is a very smart man, and everything else does support that--and then he got admonished. Also, the perception of secrecy kept changing. At one point, John was being pretty secretive, and I was like, good job, you're learning. But then Sir Toby (I think) poked his head in and said gravely, "You haven't been exactly discreet, John." And I was very confused.
Let's talk about plot, shall we? The premise was pretty good, I thought. There's a multiverse, each with copies of pretty much everyone. One of the universes is being invaded by dark forces and monsters due to the tears in reality created by this particular universe's psychics. The Othersiders are planning to invade our universe and basically move all the way in, except they're doing it rather violently. Okay. Nice. If only this idea didn't have a bajillion holes in it. The main one that I occurs to me is that any twin/doppelganger/parallel universe theory really only exists in extremely controlled conditions; they don't really work for longer than a few moments. That's why they're called twin paradoxes. It's not actually possible. That's the philosophy. The science and the philosophy would together agree that after many moments, the happenings in parallel universes would cease to be so parallel. If this multiverse has existed for billions of years, what's the likelihood that pretty much every person would have a doppelganger on the other side? What's the likelihood even that more than one universe would develop life at all? It's probability with a bit of string theory: Out of the many--and sometimes infinite--possible paths for these universes to take, it's inexpressibly unlikely that any two universes would line up in any way by the late nineteenth century. It's a sci-fi/fantasy book, but still, your premise should not have this many holes! In addition, the plot with this porous premise didn't progress very well. I often had the disgruntling feeling that Latham was writing this book to be turned easily into a movie, while also frantically hitting every single step of the 12 stages of the hero at exactly the right place in the book (I'm pretty sure that stage six was right in the dang middle of the story).
The prologue was really weird. If a book is in first-person--especially if it's an account written about a year after the events, as The Lazarus Gate is--you should not have an awkward third-person mostly omniscient three-part prologue. The introduction of the Artist did keep me reading, but it was still weird. I say, eloquently, ????.
Oh, Latham, that dreadful forced romance. Whyyyyyyyyyy... So John ends up with a Romani caravan at one point, and there's an awkward, cringey middle-school romance. Rosanna is really fabulous (she and the Artist are my favorite characters, mainly because they're the most interesting), but the romance was forced. I didn't get it. And speaking of which, Rosanna was one of not very many female characters in the entire story. One of them was John's landlady Mrs. Whitinger, who said about two things. Four of them were Rosanna's sisters, who said about ten words between them. Another was an evil, murderous Otherside agent. Um... Yeah. I was really hoping that Latham would be cool and say, "Look, it's Victorian England, but there's a secret society, so they totally break societal norms and have women members!" Nope. Didn't happen. Apollo Lycea was a Guy Club just like any other. I mean, come on, if you're secret, why are you not a little different? Argh.
Somewhat connected to the Random Rosanna Romani Romance is Latham's clumsy use of Dickens. I don't know if he was trying to make it some sort of motif or whatever, but it really failed. Awkward insertions of Great Expectations references and quotes that don't actually fit the situation very well are a bit of an insult to Dickens. It simply didn't work. In fact, it was utterly laughable. It added nothing to the story; it just served to show how incompetent Latham can be (is? I don't know if I can say that for sure considering that this is his first novel).
And finally, the climax was anticlimactic in the extreme. I can't say more because that would constitute an extreme spoiler, but it was boring. An unsatisfying culmination in an unsatisfying book. Not good.
In short, I don't really recommend this book, but I guess you could read it. Just don't expect much. Apparently The Lazarus Gate is the beginning of a series, which is good, considering how it ended. I guess I shall have to read the next one, because Elsbet! I do want to know what happens with her! And I'm sure that Rosanna will poke her head in again. Hopefully Latham will improve. This was his first novel, after all.